


Pontem Aedificant

by stellaedeinferno



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Minor Character Death, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:01:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28302006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stellaedeinferno/pseuds/stellaedeinferno
Summary: It takes work to build bridges over chasms. Sometimes, a contract is needed to start the work in the first place. It can be built slowly, piece by piece, over years and with much effort. The bridge brings people together, once constructed.It is not that different from people. It takes work to build relationships. Severus and Sirius are dead set against building one; but the contract has been issued, and bit by bit, event by event, the work gets done without them even realising it.
Relationships: Sirius Black/Severus Snape
Comments: 10
Kudos: 100
Collections: BlackPrince Secret Santa Gift Exchange 2020





	Pontem Aedificant

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Slashitortrashit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slashitortrashit/gifts).



> This is my first venture into this pairing! It's been an interesting writing challenge, and I hope I did it some justice in this set frame.  
> I hope you enjoy, Slash It, and happy holidays! 💙

The noise of the party could be heard through the oak doors, muffled and indistinct. Sirius tugged at his sleeves, messing with the fabric for the dozenth time in the span of minutes for lack of anything else to do as he waited. It wasn’t that he was unused to pureblood parties; he felt comfortable in the stiff and shallow settings, knowing how to navigate them in spite of wishing he were somewhere else. No- what set him on edge was the fact that his parents had been hiding something, and that his mother pulled him aside into the study before they could step inside the ballroom where the event was being hosted, and had him wait on one of the settees. The ticking clock on the mantelpiece showed that she had been gone for seven minutes. Seven _long_ minutes.

Walburga returned right as Sirius was about to begin exploring the room, and her footsteps gave him enough of a warning to relax into his seat.

“Sirius,” she began, her voice pleased as she joined him (never a good sign, in his opinion, not ever since he had been sorted into Gryffindor), “your father and I have been talking, and we have arranged something that will benefit your future greatly.”

Sirius folded his hands on his lap, a display of a nonchalance he did not feel. “Yes, mother?”

“Though your sorting is questionable, you are still the Heir of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black,” she said, tone still deceptively soft. “There are certain things expected of you. We have taken care of your good education, of your manners, of a good head upon your shoulders. But being the future Lord Black also implies providing a legacy, a good lineage. Good matches and good connections. And there are not many to be had in… your House.”

He barely had time to register the thin sneer at the end, more focused on his stomach, which seemed to have dropped through the floor and straight into the wine cellar. “Yes, mother,” he replied, more out of habit than anything.

“Your father and I have arranged a match for you.”

He stared. Sirius opened his mouth-

“I expect no arguments.”

-and promptly closed it again.

“Your deplorable colours have made it so that no true pureblood has accepted an engagement offer, but I will not be disrespected. Your match is a half-blood from an otherwise pureblood family,” Walburga continued, her words turning sharp and biting, more familiar to her son. “Another mistake, as I’m sure you’re all too familiar with. They have, of course, taken him in as a pureblood, and he _is_ a Slytherin. No one will be any wiser to his parentage. I expect it to stay that way.”

“Don’t I have a say in this?,” Sirius finally managed, his voice breaking a little to his anger.

Walburga, too, noticed the emotion, and narrowed her eyes at him. “Pull yourself together,” she hissed, “and sit up straight. Everything has already been arranged. Do not presume you will be allowed to ruin your future even more than you already have.”

“ _Your_ future, you mean,” he growled back before he could catch himself. He was in over his head in hot water enough as it was.

“There is no difference,” Walburga said, standing up. “Compose yourself. We have a party to attend.”

“Is he here?,” Sirius asked, taking a deep breath and standing to follow her.

“No, he is not. We will be hosting a dinner party next week to have you two meet.”

Sirius subtly fidgeted with his sleeves once again. It felt oddly like a death sentence.

* * *

The past month had been the most bizarre experience of Severus’ young life.

He had always known on some level about his mother’s past as a pureblood witch, much as she’d had to hide it in their home. Severus knew about the wizarding society, the power structures in place, the importance of blood purity and House. Eileen had faults, many of them, but she raised him as well as she could have given the circumstances - taught him to be cunning, showed him how to behave in pureblood settings, and corrected his speech whenever he started picking up the accent of their neighbourhood as a young child.

The pureblood family she came from, the Princes, were more concept than reality to him. In eleven years they had not contacted them once, not to acknowledge their grandson, and certainly not to save them from Tobias.

The arrival of the owl, of the letter that bore the news that he would be Severus _Prince_ come the New Year, that they now lived in the ancestral home - it all made Severus feel very conflicted.

Of course, it was unthinkable to let that show. Not with all the sharks constantly on the lookout for blood in the water. He accepted the wardrobe that was mailed to him to actually fit, quietly wore the signet ring that marked him as the Prince heir, and stood taller amongst his peers, now having a status to back him up.

Lily had questioned the changes at first, worried that he’d change, that he’d turn into another person - he reassured her during their quiet study sessions in the library with a small smile on his lips and a steady voice, though his mind was just as fraught with worry. Between the changes at home and the rivalry that was forming with the Gryffindor boys in their year, Severus found himself kept busy.

The Yule break was supposed to be a change of pace from that. His mother greeted him on the platform back, and her hand - devoid of a wedding ring - was warm in his as she Apparated them away.

Meeting his grandparents had been strange, to say the least. Their abandonment of both their daughter and their grandson aside, they were aloof and arrogant, overly bragging to mask a lack of confidence. 

As they sat down to dine together, they broke the news of the engagement.

‘Of course,’ thought Severus, _‘there’s_ the catch.’ They needed him to secure their position. His own security thanks to the match was more of an afterthought.

“Mother,” he said, standing in the doorway of her drawing room and looking as she handled her correspondence. And wasn’t that a sight, having a manor large enough for his mother to have a drawing room after spending so long in a miserable shoebox of a house?

Eileen looked up at him, and gestured for him to enter. “Yes, Severus?”

“Who is my match? They avoided mentioning it the entire evening,” asked Severus, stepping closer and curling up in the armchair opposite her.

She finished her letter and sat down her quill, taking her time to reply. He could tell she was holding back a sigh. “You’ll find out in a week. We’ll be having dinner with him and his family.”

“I hope he doesn’t turn out to be like dad,” Severus muttered, looking out the window.

“I hope so too.”

Eileen called for tea and sat in comfortable silence with him for a while, giving him the rare indulgence of kissing his forehead before sending him off to bed.

* * *

The fireplace came alive in green flames.

Sirius’ future in-laws emerged first. He gave them the expected greetings, half-distracted by all the new information. The Princes had not attended any of the gatherings he recalled in recent memory, though he knew them to be a good pureblood family of Slytherin repute - everything his parents loved, and everything he personally hated. With each new person Flooing in, his anxiety grew. He thought some of their features seemed familiar, but not enough to give him an idea of who his fiance might be.

And then Snivellus stepped out, all new robes and carefully arranged hair, looking just as carefully blank as Sirius did.

Their eyes narrowed a fraction, their pleasantries neutral and their grip firm as they shook hands.

“It’s good to see you, Prince,” said Sirius, remembering the name change at the last moment.

“And you as well, Black,” said Severus, using the same dull tone he did when delivering information about ingredients in Potions.

“I’m sure this is a surprise,” said Walburga, the picture of charm to all except her sons, who recognised the daggers in her gaze as she turned to Sirius, “but, surely, you may use your first names. You are to be married, after all.”

They both looked as if they were becoming all too aware of exactly how long of an evening this was turning out to be. Sirius recovered first, and gave them his patented charming laugh, though it did not reach his eyes. “Of course. Severus, if I may have a moment with you?”

Severus’ expression flickering into a grimace went unnoticed as the adults laughed and teased them, heading into the dining room to give them the requested privacy. “Of course, Sirius,” said Severus at last, for the benefit of their retreating audience.

As soon as the doors closed and they were alone, their facades fell back into familiar hostility.

“What the hell are you playing at?,” demanded Sirius, his brows furrowed.

“Me? Your family is the one that arranged this!,” snapped Severus. “I had no idea it would be you!

“I didn’t know either! You think I’d be here if I did?,” said Sirius. “What do we do now? We obviously can’t go along with this! I’m not marrying you!”

“ _I’m_ not marrying _you_ ,” said Severus, glaring. “The contract is legally binding by the Lords of our Houses. I know my grandfather won’t change his mind.”

“What, and _my_ father will? I may as well join the circus!”

“Be serious!”

“I _am_ Sirius,” said Sirius automatically, looking as if he regretted it even as the words left his mouth.

Severus gave him a disbelieving stare, before pinching the bridge of his nose as if it would help his emerging headache. “What do you propose?”

“I don’t know,” growled Sirius, equally frustrated. “But we have to figure it out, and fast. They’re expecting us.”

Severus thought for a moment or two, his gaze shuffling between the paintings on the walls, distracted. “We can break the contracts.”

“No, we can’t,” said Sirius, rolling his eyes. “We have no legal authority over them. I know how contracts work.”

“For once, Black, use that brain that must be rattling around in that thick skull of yours. We’re not going to be Heirs forever. We’ll be Lords sooner or later.”

“And you want to, what, wait that out? For the next fifty years?,” said Sirius, looking at him incredulously. “And you insult _my_ intelligence.”

“It’s an option. At least until we find a loophole,” said Severus, glancing at the doors to the dining room. “We need to go before they come looking for us.”

“And we, what, play nice for now?,” snarked Sirius.

“Only in front of them, I assure you,” growled Severus in return. 

“Fine!”

“Fine!”

The dinner proved to be nearly interminable, with subtle kicking at each other under the table and out of sight as they exchanged polite smiles over the numerous courses. Thinking back on it, they could not pinpoint when it happened, but the glares in their eyes shifted into commiserating looks, though neither would admit to it if pressed.

* * *

Their united front of mutual dislike and disagreement with the contract ensured that their engagement remained unspoken at Hogwarts. Even if Severus would have benefited from his match to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black being known, it would not have been worth the trouble of having to be on friendly terms with Black. 

To their knowledge the only ones aware of the arrangement were Evans and Potter - both had been horrified, with the former by the practice of the arranged marriage and the latter by the match itself. Sirius had wanted to tell Remus and Peter as well, but Severus had drawn the line at Potter. It was too risky to have too many people knowing, and Sirius agreed. 

He agreed even more after seeing James’ reaction.

All in all, things did not change much. They still played pranks, duelled in the corridors, sent hexes at each other, and refused to be within ten feet of each other outside of the occasional chats about the contract and outside of social functions that their families insisted upon.

During larger events, where more pureblood families were in attendance, this truce of theirs came in handy. They had both insisted on everyone’s silence on the matter of their engagement, to the displeasure of the Princes and the pleasant agreement of the Blacks. After all, if people thought the Heirs were still available for engagement, better offers might come through for Sirius; none did.

The forced closeness between them came to a head when Severus got too close to the truth about Remus.

In a fit of pique, and with a heavy side of his parents’ sharp cruelty Sirius knew he had inherited to some extent, he had directed Severus to the Shrieking Shack during a Full Moon.

He had not expected the Slytherin to come, had not even considered the consequences this might have on his werewolf friend. Sirius arrived as usual with his friends, under the Cloak, and turned into his Animagus form, waiting for the transformation of Remus.

It wasn’t until his sharp sense of smell detected Severus’ scent in the passageway that he realised his error.

Before anyone else could react, and right before Remus began to turn, Sirius sprinted off towards the entrance, turning back into his human self long enough to grab Severus’ hand and drag him out of there.

To his credit, Severus waited until they emerged before turning on him.

“You’re an unregistered Animagus,” said Severus, a glint in his eye. He could turn Black in for it, ensuring the breaking of the contract by the lifelong sentence in Azkaban. 

“I am,” said Sirius, with a bravado he did not feel. “And you are about to be in the proximity of a werewolf. Go. Go back to the castle. Before he senses you.”

“You’re joking.” Severus frowned, taken off guard by the admission. “...You’re not joking. Lupin’s a werewolf.”

Sirius gave him an exasperated look; he knew better than to state his identity outright. 

“I could go to Dumbledore about this. I could go to the Ministry,” said Severus, still trying to find his footing.

“Dumbledore already knows.”

“And about you? Being an Animagus?”

Sirius’ frown replied for him.

“Why would you-”

A werewolf howled. The noise was approaching.

“Go.”

“But-”

“Go. I’ll distract him.”

Before Severus could react, Sirius resumed his Animagus form and stepped in front of him in the nick of time, as Remus exited the passageway along with the stag and rat. All was still, everyone trying to process the scene. Then, all at once, Lupin leapt, and Black intercepted him, growling and barking and whining against the wolf’s assault, sharp claws leaving their mark as the dog kept him from the human. 

Severus retreated, though he looked back the whole time. The sounds of the scuffle died off. He told no one.

The next day, Sirius sported bandages on his arms and shoulder. When asked, he claimed to have broken a mirror and cut himself on the glass, scoring himself seven years of bad luck for his trouble. The scars healed, but did not fade. Sometimes, Severus’ eyes would linger on them.

They never spoke of it again.

* * *

Black running away from home and being adopted by the Potters was not on Severus’ proverbial bingo card, truth be told, but he was entirely unsurprised. Their next meeting on the subject of their arranged marriage, in an unassuming hole-in-the-wall Muggle cafe, started off in silence.

“Technically I’m no longer a Black,” said Sirius, looking at their copy of the contract. “So my parents can’t sign me off anymore.”

“If only that were how magical contracts work,” said Severus sarcastically, his eyes looking at the ceiling if only to stop them from rolling.

“I can’t break it from my end anymore. You’ll have to annul it,” continued Sirius, giving no inclination of having heard him apart from his raised eyebrows.

Severus looked out the window, sipping his coffee. He paused for long enough that Sirius eventually stared at him. “How are you?”

“Really?,” replied Sirius, snorting. “I’m fine. My cousin gave me an inheritance. I’m actually getting my own place.”

“In the Muggle world?,” asked Severus, nonplussed.

“Yeah. A flat, probably. Don’t know what I’ll put in it,” said Sirius. “It’ll be weird.”

Severus sat back and frowned. “Make sure to check the listings carefully, for both places and items. I know it may be beyond your minuscule attention span, but it will save time and money in the long run.”

“What would you know?,” pushed Sirius with a cocky look.

“Considering my father was a Muggle, and I grew up in a Muggle house, a lot more than you do,” said Severus dryly. “I know I won’t be scammed, for one thing.”

“Huh.” Sirius’ expression shifted into calculating, looking for signs of falsehood. When he couldn’t find any, he raised his eyebrows again. “And yet you’re in your little pureblood club.”

“Don’t be stupid, you know what Slytherin is like,” groused Severus. 

“ _You_ were sorted there, not me,” said Sirius, eyes narrowing.

“Do you want help with your flat or not? I’m starting to reconsider.” Severus clenched the muscles in his jaw before finishing his coffee, entirely unamused.

“...Fine,” sulked Sirius, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket.

It took a while to find a flat, and even longer to find all the furniture and items Sirius wanted, but some months down the line, while the other Marauders were otherwise occupied, Sirius and Severus shared a glass of wine as the music records played.

(They had bickered over the records in the shop - “What is this Pink Floyd thing? And is the Queen releasing records?” “Black, you are an uncultured swine. Put them in the basket.” “You’re paying for them if you don’t like them.” - and eventually agreed upon them - “I assume I won’t have to pay for them.” “Fine, _princeling_ , I’ve seen the errors of my ways. ...Shut up.” “I didn’t say anything.” “I could hear your eyes rolling.”)

They were not, by any stretch of the imagination, what they could call friends. But, bit by bit, conversation by conversation, interest by interest, they were building a bridge over that chasm.

* * *

Graduation came and went, and with it, the last remnants of their childhood. It was hard to keep a hold of them as the reality of the war set in and started claiming the lives of those they knew personally.

It was even harder to find common ground and ways to meet when they were on opposite sides of the barricade. The flat, with all its wards, became a safe haven when it was not overtaken by Sirius’ merry band of misfits.

“Were you followed?,” asked Sirius as he stepped aside to allow Severus to pass him by, making a face at the chill he had inadvertently let in.

“I’m not an imbecile, Black,” said Severus, drying off his cloak with a wave of his wand. “Sit down.”

“I don’t need to,” said Sirius, crossing his arms. “What I need is for you to say what the fuck was so urgent that you had to come here in the middle of the night.”

The irritated look he received in return was like water off a duck’s back for him. Severus headed for the cupboards, pulling out two glasses and filling them with Firewhisky. He shoved one into Sirius’ hands and pointed towards one of the armchairs, taking the other for himself. “Sit.”

Sirius finally complied. “Who pissed in your cornflakes?,” he muttered, taking a sip of the drink.

“If you could be serious for once in your life- no, don’t say it,” cut off Severus, lifting a finger in warning as Sirius opened his mouth. “It’s about your brother.”

“Regulus? What’s he doing, getting golden stars for being a good little Death Eater boy?,” said Sirius, trying to fight the sinking feeling in his chest.

“He’s dead.”

“...You’re taking the Mickey.”

Severus looked him square in the eyes - something he so often avoided. He let his Occulumency shields down, and looked.

Sirius looked back. He finished his drink and poured himself another.

“How,” he croaked, the word failing to even come out as a question.

“I don’t know. But the Dark Lord is livid,” said Severus, rubbing at his arm where they both knew the Dark Mark stained his skin.

They sat in silence. No words. No tears. No throwing of items. No screaming. Only the occasional drink and refill. 

As the sun rose, so did Severus. They both stopped at the door.

“If there’s anything,” said Severus with a grimace, resting a hand on Sirius’ shoulder, if a little awkwardly. 

Sirius, surprising them both, stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Severus. The gesture was returned, and they calmed their breathing together, chests moving against one another. Eventually, they let go.

“Take care, Severus.”

“...You too, Sirius.”

* * *

The arrest of one Sirius Black was being announced right along the news of the deaths of their best friends.

Severus, now Lord Prince, was allowed to attend the proceedings of the sentencing of Black, in spite of his status as a former Death Eater and partly as thanks to Dumbledore’s clearing of his name and charges.

All of those factors amounted to nothing, in the end - the only thing that helped was that damn contract that he had put off annulling time and time again, for reasons beyond his own understanding.

Though Black was being held in tight security, he was allowed a visit before the departure to Azkaban. The Aurors confiscated his wand and remained on guard outside of the small chamber they had locked Sirius in, but did not otherwise infringe upon their privacy, as much as they were tempted to do so.

Sirius was still giggling when Severus walked in; the reports were true, but what the reporters failed to notice was the nervous breakdown that was causing the reaction.

“Sirius,” said Severus, stepping closer. “They let me see you. What happened?”

“It was Peter,” said Sirius, barely managing the words between his short breaths. “He was their Keeper. Peter did it. He escaped. The RAT!,” he screamed, before dissolving into more laughter.

Severus kept his temper in check, choosing to focus on more pressing matters. “What happened at the trial?”

“What trial?”

“You didn’t even have a show trial?,” frowned Severus.

“No,” chattered Sirius, his shaking more pronounced. “Just sentenced.”

Severus weighed his options. 

He had already failed Lily tonight. 

Perhaps there was hope for someone else instead.

Stepping back outside and heading directly for the office of the Minister, he used every ounce of pureblood training and practice he had gathered in his posturing, and it paid off as he was allowed entry even in the midst of the reporters; his family may not have been Noble and Most Ancient, but his fiance was, and that amounted to something, even in these circumstances.

“Lord Prince,” said Minister Millicent Bagnold. “I hadn’t expected you here.”

“I hadn’t expected to need to be here, Minister,” said Severus, looking down at her. “You are holding my fiance in custody.”

“Sirius Black has been sentenced to Azkaban, along with the other Death Eaters,” said Bagnold. “I’m surprised you aren’t joining them.”

“You already know why. Same reason Black won’t be.”

“Won’t he?,” challenged Bagnold. “He killed twelve Muggles!”

“Did he?,” retorted Severus, using the same tone. “I request that he be trialled before the Wizengamot, with the use of Veritaserum.”

That seemed to take some wind out of her sails. For the first time since he has stepped inside her office, Bagnold assessed him properly. “That is a serious request to be making,” she conceded.

“You’ll find I have serious reasons for making it.” 

The lack of comment on the pun was already reason enough - it left him feeling as if the conversation was incomplete, a thorn missing from his side. 

The trial was approved. Only a day later, and taking up headline space alongside the “Boy Who Lived,” it was announced that Sirius Black had been wrongly convicted. He was a free man.

* * *

The ending of the war left them feeling adrift, their days, which used to be so short and packed, now dragged on and on.

It only took them a week and a silent agreement to move into Sirius’ flat, their belongings stuffed together haphazardly. It was better located, they reasoned, though in truth, the city right outside kept them from losing touch completely with the world.

The loss of Lily and James was hard on them, and more often than not, Severus would wind up with a large black dog on his bed in the middle of the night, moments after Sirius woke up from his night terrors. After some time, that canine arrival turned into a human arrival, which turned into them heading to bed together in a tangle of limbs. 

The growing familiarity slowly seeped out of the bedroom and into their lives, from something as simple as their first names, to something as complex as casual touches as they passed each other by, or cooked together, or sat and listened to music. They still argued, and bickered, and sassed, but it was an old pattern, worn and comfortable, more habitual than anything. 

It helped.

The hunt for Peter proved fruitless, but they persevered, and kept their eyes and ears open, waiting for the day he would be found.

The Dark Mark remained on Severus’ arm, another scar of the war. He kept it covered, but sometimes, late at night, Sirius would run his fingers along it, and think of his little brother, pushed into the same choices. Severus, though he preferred not to think of it, allowed it, and ran his fingers along the scars Sirius had gotten from Lupin in return. They both doubted anyone else could understand just how permanent they were.

Neither of them was in any state fit to care for a child at first, still too wrapped up in their own personal hells to look after another selflessly.

So, they used the months it took to adopt Harry in order to put themselves back together as much as they could.

Sirius doted on Harry, sometimes spoiling him more than he should. He got to teach Harry all about Quidditch, and took him to games from an early age, decorating his room with flags and banners of teams that used reds and yellows primarily. Though both Sirius and Severus made sure that Harry knew about Lily and James, it was Sirius who told Harry stories about them, from silly to important, slipped between stories of princes and dragons and castles.

Severus had never considered having a child, but took quiet pleasure in the interest Harry developed in Potions as he got older, following him around in the little lab he had set up in a spare office of the flat. Harry turned out to be a curious child, and Severus made sure to encourage that, answering questions and gifting him encyclopaedias. 

The satisfaction that he felt over Sirius’ frustration when he could not understand what scientific thing little Harry was babbling about now was only a bonus.

The marriage contract remained on their coffee table for a few years, a part of the picture that faded into the background.

One morning, still sipping their coffees and frowning with sleepy eyes, Sirius reached over and tapped the contract. “Old thing. We should replace it with some rings. More practical.” Severus nodded his assent, and that was that. 

Within the month, they had fulfilled their agreement and put it to rest.

* * *

“You know,” said Sirius, running a hand through his hair, looking at Severus across the kitchen, “maybe this arranged business wasn’t so bad after all.”

Severus lifted one eyebrow and hummed, taking a sip of his drink. “I assume something brought you to this conclusion.”

“The fact that it got us talking long enough to reach this point,” said Sirius, gesturing around them with one finger.

“We’re here because I found it was too much trouble to go through the annulment process,” said Severus, though Sirius could tell he was teasing in spite of the dry tone.

“Are you saying I inconvenienced you into marrying me?,” Sirius shot back, trying for indignation and falling right into amusement.

“I am implying it.” Severus reached over and squeezed Sirius’ hand, their rings resting atop one another. 

In turn, Sirius leaned over and kissed him, simple and soft. “Good thing I did.”

“You’re insufferable.”

Harry, Draco, and Tonks stepped inside, their cheeks flushed from the cold. Harry and Draco, in spite of being sorted into different houses, had remained friends, with Draco being Severus’ godson and Harry and Sirius’ cousin. Sirius, now Lord Black, had reconnected to both Andromeda and Narcissa, and their respective families. This resulted in rather chaotic family gatherings, which their children seemed to enjoy the most.

“Is the cake ready?,” asked Harry, eyes on the fridge.

“In another minute, pup,” said Sirius, leaning over to ruffle his hair, to Harry’s complaint. “You three go join the others, we’ll be along.”

Severus and Sirius watched as the three retreated to the dining room, and waited in companionable silence.

“I’m glad it was you, Prince.”

“And you as well, Black.”

Words, half-remembered from a terse exchange made decades prior, tweaked to fit. Another soft kiss, a stolen moment, a bridged gap, years in the making and continuing to shift and evolve and grow. 

They retrieved the cake and made their way to the others, following the noise of the party that could be heard through the oak doors, muffled and indistinct.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you've enjoyed this piece.  
> You can also [find me on tumblr.](http://perinferiadastra.tumblr.com/)


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